


Best Laid Plans

by mdr_24601



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 3: Mockingjay, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Canon-Typical Violence, District 13 (Hunger Games), District 4 (Hunger Games), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Forced Prostitution, Minor Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Musician Annie Cresta, Odesta-centric, POV Finnick Odair, The Capitol (Hunger Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601
Summary: Finnick and Annie stood on the reaping stage, hands clasped protectively in each other's, District Four's tributes for the 75th Hunger Games.Or: Mags dies just a little too early, and not even Annie is safe from the Quarter Quell.
Relationships: Annie Cresta & Johanna Mason & Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason & Finnick Odair
Comments: 50
Kudos: 54





	1. The Quell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to this fic! I wasn't really sure what to rate this, because it kind of walked the line between Teen and Mature, in my opinion. So I just decided to not rate it. I guess just read the tags to see what you're getting into, if you're concerned about the content.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

When Finnick heard the news, he was in the Capitol.

Of course, he was in the Capitol. He was always in the Capitol these days, so it felt like. Maybe it was Snow's last-ditch attempt to cover up the colossal failure that was the 74th Games. Well, a failure for Snow; the Capitol loved it, predictably, as they loved everything new and shiny and bright. Fresh, they liked to call it.

Finnick called it childish, but that was just him.

He had the honor of attending the yearly party at the President's mansion for the reading of the Quell card. He would be lying if he said he was totally fine with it. Which, quite honestly, was exactly what he was doing. Lying, that is; it was such a crucial part of his job.

His date for the night, a tall woman with orange hair falling in wisps down her back and gold tattoos winding up her arms, slid up beside him with a quiet sigh. He knew her name, because he remembered everyone's name, but he pretended to have never even met her before. It made them feel special, introducing themselves to him. It made them feel even better when Finnick made an effort to remember silly things like their name or their favorite cocktail or whether they paid in money or secrets.

"Hello, Finnick," she said softly into his ear so only he could hear, like a little private song.

He jumped, just a little, then schooled his expression into his perfectly calculated smile. "Hello. This is a pleasant surprise, Miss...?"

She smiled again, eyes unnaturally bright. "Carmella Starling."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Starling." Finnick pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, because she was the traditional type, he knew.

"Please, call me Carmella."

He nodded again. "Are you excited for the reading of the card, Carmella?"

"Oh, of course," she drawled, picking up a glass from a nearby tray, making a show of sipping it tastefully. "Quarter Quells are just so riveting, don't you agree? Oh, you must be ecstatic, Finnick, this could be a big year for you! District Four hasn't won in a while. How long has it been, now?"

"Five years." Finnick felt his knuckles whiten around his glass at the mention of Annie's Games, but kept his voice steady.

Carmella softened her gaze. "Yes, yes, five years. But with what happened to that girl...well, it just seems like that one doesn't really count, does it?"

Something burned in his chest, and his heartbeat roared in his ears. The implication that Annie _didn't count,_ or that she didn't matter, nearly made his vision red from anger. He wanted to slap the drink from her hand so it soaked her silk dress and left an unsightly red stain on the silvery fabric, but he didn't. Within seconds, he was calm again, because he had enough practice at this. If he acted out every time a Capitol citizen said something stupid, he'd never be welcome in the Capitol again.

Besides, he thought as he sent Carmella another smile, this had been the goal all along. The fact that the Capitol didn't care enough about Annie to even remember her name was a good thing.

"By that logic," he said, continuing where Carmella left off, "the last victor Four had was me."

She gasped slightly. "I suppose you're right! Well, just so you know, I'll be betting for District Four this year. My friend Lottie, you've met her before, said she's betting on District Two, but I told her that was simply idiotic. District Two produces fine tributes but they came so close last year, it's time they give someone else a turn."

"Right," Finnick replied with a smile. "I'm glad you're putting your faith in us, Carmella. We won't disappoint."

Carmella laughed, high and breathy, and Finnick internally cringed. "Oh," she said, pointing to the balcony where the president was due to read the card any moment. "It's time."

President Snow stepped out onto the balcony, responding to the resounding cheers with a wave. He might have imagined it, but for a split second, it felt like he caught Finnick's eye. He shuddered, but stopped the movement as soon as he realized what he was doing.

The president must have been speaking, but Finnick couldn't hear it. It felt like he was walking through water, like every voice was just a little too muffled for him to make out. The Capitol was excited for the Quell, excited to see what cool new surprise the Gamemakers would present for the tributes. Finnick, though, was nothing short of worried. Covering it up during the party had been fine, but now that the card was being read, he could feel the tension settling on his shoulders.

So, he fixed his smile in place, looked up at the president, and hoped nobody could tell that he was minutes away from throwing up.

"Male and female tributes are to be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

For a second, the world faded out, the voices of the crowd quieting into a gentle lull. Finnick wasn't sure how long he stood there, heart beating erratically. After what seemed like years but was probably only seconds, his head broke the surface of the water and he was greeted with the incessant shrieking of the Capitol citizens.

"Existing pool of victors?"

"You mean they're going in again?"

"Finnick! How do you feel?"

"I–" he began, but his words died in his throat. He tried to say something, but the reality of the situation was still setting in. His mind was drumming up a not so helpful chorus of _Annie, Annie, Annie_. She might be going back into the arena, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

He pressed a quick kiss to Carmella's cheek and brushed past the crowd, seeking refuge in a bathroom inside.

Annie. How was she feeling? Scared, angry? Was she okay? How could he let her watch that announcement alone? Finnick needed to be home, needed to be there for her in every way that he could.

He splashed some water on his face and took a few deep breaths, trying to get rid of the tightness in his chest. _Existing pool of victors._ He'd go in again, obviously. It wasn't like there was another viable option. Maybe he could even handle it.

But Annie? She didn't deserve that.

There was a clock on the wall, ticking down the seconds. It may as well have been a tribute cannon for how loud it felt in the empty bathroom. But it was a reminder that he needed to get back outside, or people would wonder where he went.

"Finnick, there you are!" Carmella was by his side instantly, and Finnick had to fight the instinct to push her away. It felt wrong touching somebody else when his mind was still so focused on Annie. She put her arm around his waist, and he tried to ignore how much he wanted to crawl out of his skin. "I'm still betting on District Four, you know."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice light. Clearly, Carmella was the type who liked to talk rather than listen. Tonight, that was just fine by him.

"Yes." She trailed a finger down his side, and bile rose in his throat. "You did such a nice job in your arena, and it would be such a shame to lose you. The Capitol loves you dearly."

"I feel the same way."

They made it back to her apartment eventually, and Finnick pushed all thoughts of Annie from his mind. He wanted to be home, more than anything, but he couldn't show that. So, he showed the opposite.

"Satisfying as always, Finnick," Carmella said once she was finished. Finnick only laid in bed beside her, breathing heavily, the sheets sticky with sweat. "How can I pay you back this time?"

He propped himself up on his elbows and faced her with an inquisitive gaze. "Tell me something I don't know."

She thought for a moment, then smiled. "Alright, but you mustn't tell anyone. My husband will get in big trouble if word gets out."

"My lips are sealed."

Carmella sat up and leaned into him, so she could whisper into his ear. Her warm breath tickled his skin as she said, "I know what happened to Seneca Crane."

* * *

Finnick peeled his heavy eyelids open the next morning to a pounding headache and a premature sense of dread. The sunlight streamed through his windows and he winced at the light; it wasn't doing his headache any favors.

He was at his apartment, though he couldn't recall how he'd gotten there, no matter how hard he tried to string last night's memories together. Climbing out of bed and making his way to the kitchen, his eyes caught sight of the phone on his counter.

He was dialing the number before he could even think.

Finnick stood there quietly as he waited, his breathing the only sound in the quiet kitchen. Time seemed to slow around him as he waited for her to pick up. 

"Finnick?"

"Annie." The tension melted from his shoulders at her voice. The confirmation that she was safe, if only for a bit, was enough to make him feel marginally better. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"The announcement—" her voice cut off, and she tried again. "We're going back." He recognized the tone of her voice, knew it well. That hopeless, sinking feeling when you realize you've hit rock bottom and there's still further down to go.

"No," he replied, gripping his kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turned white. "No, Annie, you're not going back in. I won't let you."

"You can't control what happens," Annie said, voice breaking.

"I'll find a way."

Silence covered them for a moment, and all he could hear was Annie's breathing from the phone. "I love you," she said, their usual conclusion to a phone call. "Stay safe."

"You, too," he replied habitually, even though they both knew the words were futile now.

It wasn't until their phone call ended that Finnick noticed the note sitting on his table. Seeing a note on his table wasn't unusual; they were often reminders of where he was supposed to be or who he was supposed to be seeing. Heaving a sigh, he scanned the contents of the note.

It didn't take very long; the note only contained a time. But that was all Finnick needed. He could recognize the stationary and the familiar loopy handwriting anywhere.

And based on Panem's current political climate, he didn't have to think too hard about why President Snow wanted to meet with him.

The meeting wasn't for another two hours, so Finnick had enough time to shower and eat breakfast before. If he was at home, he'd be waking up in Annie's arms to the sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline.

But he wasn't at home, so he was waking up to cement and steel and the sound of cars rushing by on the road below him.

A car arrived to escort him to the meeting, and Finnick was there in minutes.

"Finnick," the president said, greeting him at the door. His lips stretched into a smile, one that was supposed to look polite but just ended up looking unsettling. "Come in, good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. President," he responded almost mechanically as he'd done many times before.

"I'm going to assume you know why I've called you here?"

"I have a guess."

Snow leaned back in his chair, as if this was the easiest thing in the world. "You may not be aware, but at the moment, Panem is not as unified as it should be."

Finnick frowned. He'd heard rumors from the other victors about discontent in the districts, and Four had its own share of fury. "How do you mean, sir?"

"Katniss Everdeen's trick with the berries has," he paused, licking his lips contemplatively, "broken some rules. Important rules. In times like this, Finnick, I need to know who I can trust. I need to know that I can count on you to help the Capitol during this unprecedented time."

"Of course," Finnick answered easily. "Whatever you need."

"I'm glad to hear that. We're all looking forward to this upcoming Games season. I'd like to see you come out on top."

Finnick's blood ran cold. If he won, Katniss Everdeen would die, and with her, hope. And what about Annie? How could he ensure her safety? The deal, it seemed, was simple: he followed directions, and he got to live.

But despite its superficial appearance, this was the Capitol, and nothing was ever that easy.

"What about Annie?" he asked in a rare moment of boldness. Annie wasn't something he brought up directly with Snow. They both mentioned her indirectly as Snow hung her over his head, but never by name. It didn't make her any safer, but sometimes it felt like it did.

"Miss Cresta is one of the most able bodied female victors of Four," Snow mused. "She has recovered quite nicely from her previous mental challenges, would you agree?"

"Not enough to go back into the arena," Finnick said. It was rare that he and Snow were so direct with each other. This time, though, was different.

"Well, Mr. Odair, you and I both know I can't control if your Annie is reaped or not. However, so long as you comply with my requests, I can see to it that she is as safe as possible."

It sounded good, in theory. But Finnick heard the second, and unspoken, part of the agreement: if he stepped one toe out of line, Annie would be reaped again. And it wouldn't be a coincidence. 

"I understand," Finnick said, the words burning in his scratchy throat.

Something was going on here, something he didn't have all the details on. Carmella's insight about Seneca Crane, Snow's mention of Katniss and the berries; he had never been alive to see one, but he'd heard enough stories from Mags to recognize an uprising when he saw one.

"Good," Snow said, lips stretching into a satisfied smile. "In that case, I hope you enjoy your remaining few days in the Capitol. We'll see you in the summer for the Quell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's chapter 1! This was more of an introductory chapter, the action will pick up in the next few chapters. This story is all pre-written, and as of right now, I plan on updating every Saturday and Wednesday. But feel free to let me know if you want updates more/less often, because I can certainly do that. I think twice a week is a good amount. 
> 
> My Tumblr is the-sun-and-the-sea if you want to come say hi!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and be sure to leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed. Stay tuned for chapter 2 on Saturday! <3


	2. Changing Tides

Finnick's next few days in the Capitol seemed to stretch on forever, an endless tunnel of parties and people and secrets. If it was difficult before, it was nearly unbearable now that he knew about the Quell. Every day spent in the Capitol was another day he'd lost with Annie and Mags and District Four. 

Mornings in the Capitol were his favorite time. He didn't have the responsibility of entertaining anyone. If he made it back to his apartment before the end of the previous night, he could wake up and pretend his life wasn't what it was, and that he was in the Capitol voluntarily. 

It didn't make being there any easier, not really, but it was the illusion of choice. 

Finnick opened his bathroom cabinet and rummaged for more toothpaste, only for his hand to come into contact with something flimsy and paper-like; something that didn't belong in his bathroom cabinet. Slowly, he pulled it out, as if trying to stay silent. 

It was a note, crinkled and possibly several days old, but still readable. Who was leaving notes in his bathroom cabinet? 

He read the note, just in case it was anything important. If it was important, it was hard to tell; the letter was so cryptic, only including a few choice words, a time, and a location. Finnick was grateful his bathroom didn't have any cameras. He was certain of this because he'd checked himself, multiple times, just in case. Snow wasn't above putting cameras in his bathroom, although it sickened him to admit it. 

The note couldn't have been from a client, seeing as he made sure his clients didn't come into his apartment. Besides, if a Capitol citizen wanted his attention, they would have been more blatant about it. 

The rest of Finnick's day was relatively free, although he had to meet his prep team in the evening to get ready for the night, his last night in the Capitol. This gave him plenty of time to dwell on the note. 

"You seem distracted," his stylist, Vance, said, as he helped Finnick get dressed later that night. His hands paused his work on buttoning Finnick's shirt. "It's about the Quell, isn't it?"

Vance wasn't quite as bad as the other Capitol citizens, in Finnick's mind. Sure, he was as ignorant and superficial as the rest of them, but he cared, at least a little. They'd been working together ever since Finnick won his Games nearly ten years prior, and had developed a certain camaraderie in that time. 

"It's just so unexpected," Finnick said, choosing his words carefully. Vance was still a Capitol citizen, and it wouldn't do to say the wrong thing. "I thought we were all safe."

"So did I. It'll be a difficult adjustment, not getting to style you anymore."

He smiled slightly. "Guess I'll just have to win, then."

Vance nodded, took a step back, and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in Finnick's shirt. "Guess you will. Have fun out there, Finnick. See you in the summer."

Any hint of sorrow in his stylist's voice was covered up quickly. 

Finnick made his way to the party, some rave at a common Capitol nightclub. Coincidentally, the note asked him to come to the same spot; the club housed a smaller back room, one that was apparently empty tonight. 

Well, empty except whoever was waiting for him there. 

The lights and sounds of the party pulsed around him as Finnick opened the door. Heads turned his way, and hands reached out, pulling at his clothes. They touched and touched and touched, and he didn't push them away. It was only one more night before he could go home, and not touch anyone until his next Capitol visit, if he so wished. 

People were trying to talk to him, and although he usually would have said something back, Finnick's mind was elsewhere. On the note, on the Quell, on his recent conversation with Snow. And on Annie. Always on Annie. 

He spent some time at the bar and on the dance floor, just enough to not look suspicious. A headache was already beginning to throb at his temples, from the lights and the sound and the constant stimulation around him. The club's back room was starting to look more appealing than ever, no matter who was waiting for him. 

A few minutes before the note said to arrive, Finnick slipped away.

The quiet back room was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the main club. The room was usually rented for parties or smaller gatherings, but it was empty tonight, except for him. Minutes later, the door opened. 

"Finnick. Thank you for coming."

If Finnick hadn't turned around to see for himself, he wouldn't have believed it. Plutarch Heavensbee, Head Gamemaker and Capitol supporter, stood in the doorway. Admittedly, Finnick was a little confused; he already assured Snow that he would be on his best behavior. Was sending another reminder really necessary?

"What's going on here?" he asked slowly. "I've already spoken to the president, and we have an agreement."

"This isn't about the president," said Plutarch, voice soft and solemn. He took a device from his pocket and walked around the room deliberately. When he was done, he turned to Finnick and said, "This is about the rebellion. We're recruiting you, because we could use your help."

"My help," Finnick echoed softly. "Sorry, but you're not the only one who needs my help these days. And what is that thing?" He pointed to the device still in Plutarch's hand. 

"This is a device that disrupts the electrical signal of any cameras that might be in this room. Beetee made it. It only works for about a half hour, so we need to be quick."

"Sure," he agreed easily. "You want to recruit me for your rebellion, you said? Aren't you working for Snow?"

Plutarch sighed. "I'm working for District Thirteen."

He spent the next few minutes explaining the origins of the rebellion, the involvement of 13, and how Katniss Everdeen toppled the system without even realizing it. 

"She represents hope," the Gamemaker said. "If she dies, so does the spark."

"She's about to go into an arena where twenty-two experienced killers all want her dead," Finnick retorted. 

"Not twenty-two," Plutarch mused quietly. "More like...eighteen."

"Eighteen," he repeated flatly, sounding very much like Johanna in the moment. "Oh, well, that's a relief. And here I thought we were screwed."

"The point is, you wouldn't be the only one in on it. Mags knows already, she pushed for your involvement." He sat down in one of the chairs, sighing heavily. "Finnick, if you do this, we can keep Annie safe."

Finnick bristled. Annie's safety was the most important thing to him at the moment. At any moment, really. He ran his hand through his hair, waited another beat of silence, than looked up at Plutarch. "Annie might be going in the arena with me." He hated the way his voice broke at the words; it was the first time he'd said them aloud. "If that happens, my priority will be her. Not myself, and not Katniss."

"We're aware," Plutarch assured him. "As long as you can keep Annie alive for a few days, long enough to be picked up by our hovercraft, she'll be just fine."

Finnick wanted to quip back, say nothing about this situation was _just fine,_ but he didn't. "I need to go," he said, standing up, trying to fight the constantly growing fatigue weighing on his shoulders. "I'm busy tonight. You'll want to talk to Johanna, by the way. She's the one you want."

"I'll talk to her. Consider my offer," Plutarch said as he walked out. 

Finnick said nothing in response, only opened the door to the main club area and let the crowd swallow him whole. 

* * *

The hot sun beat down on his shoulders as he exited the train, but it was welcome. Returning to District Four rejuvenated Finnick both physically and mentally after his trips to the Capitol. After this one, he certainly needed it. 

Annie and Mags were waiting at the train station, as they always did when he came back. His pace quickened when he saw them, and Annie stood up to greet him, arms open for him to walk into, if he so chose. 

Years ago, before he had gotten very comfortable around Annie, Finnick wouldn't have been able to hug her after his Capitol trips. He would recoil at the slightest touch, his skin crawling with phantom touches that he couldn't stand. 

But Annie was different. For one, she didn't touch him unless he initiated it first. And if he didn't feel like being touched, in any way, she wouldn't touch him. At all. Not even a brush of her shoulder against his, or a quick kiss on the cheek. Nothing was required of him. 

Now, though, his arms were wrapped around Annie as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I missed you," she whispered, voice muffled. 

"I missed you, too," Finnick replied softly. For a few minutes, they just stood there, savoring each others' company, neither one of them wanting to be the first to let go. 

Eventually, though, they did pull apart. Finnick leaned down to give Mags a hug, holding on just a little longer than normal. Mags gave him a gentle smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

With the greetings out of the way, their usual ritual of going to the beach after Finnick's arrival home could commence. After a quick shower to get rid of any remaining Capitol stench, during which Mags and Annie packed a picnic basket, they were ready to go. 

"It's nice out," Finnick said as they walked the boardwalk down to the beach, his hand clasped in Annie's. Mags walked beside them, hair blowing in the wind.

Annie's skirt floated around her legs as she walked, dark hair tied up in a messy bun on her head. It was good to see her, to be near her and hold her hand. His other hand carried the picnic basket, which they would open when they arrived on the beach. 

"It's hot out," Annie replied, though a fond smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "I can't wait to go in the water."

"Oh, neither can I," he agreed. "But we should probably eat first. What'd you pack?"

"Well, we packed seaweed, for the nutritional value. Anchovies, for the taste. Oh, and cabbage for dessert," Annie deadpanned, looking at him expectantly. 

"You're joking," Finnick respond, laughter escaping his lips. "There's no way I'm eating cabbage."

She raised her eyebrows, beginning to dissolve into laughter, also. "Oh, but the seaweed is fine?"

"I used to eat seaweed all the time when I was a kid," he said casually, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Annie's eyes widened. 

"You did not!"

He just laughed in response, because seeing Annie so vibrant made him feel more alive by extension. It was like his happiness depended on hers. If she was happy, then so was he.

As it turned out, Annie did not pack seaweed or cabbage or anchovies. The three of them ate their meal of sandwiches and fruit contently by the ocean, a nice breeze from the sea blowing around them. 

"I'm going to the water," Annie said, standing up and making her way to the shoreline. Finnick stood up to join her, but Mags gave him a look that told him to sit back down. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"I will volunteer," she said. Looking in Annie's direction, she said, "For her."

It took Finnick a moment to realize what she meant, with him being so wrapped up in Annie and the beach and the minuscule victory of being home. But when realization dawned on him, dread pooled in his stomach, and the food he'd just eaten threatened to come back up. "No. No, Mags, you don't have to do that. There'll be another way. There are two other women who can do it, Coral or Nerissa—"

"They are both married," Mags said, shaking her head. "They can't take you both. It's my time."

"It's not, Mags, it's not," he pleaded, voice desperate. 

"Finnick," she said softly, cupping his face in her hand. "This is your fight now. I will die in there. You keep going. Promise?"

"I promise," he responded, because there was hardly another option. 

Mags patted his cheek gently, and gave him a small smile. "Good. Go join your girl."

Finnick stood up, pressed a kiss to Mags's head, then joined Annie in the water. The waves lapped at his knees like gentle hugs, and he and Annie and Mags spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, swimming and talking. 

As the sun started dipping below the horizon, the sky turning soft shades of pink and orange, Annie said, "We should be getting home soon."

"I know," Finnick said. "I don't really want to, though."

She stayed silent, because she understood. Time was slipping by too quickly, like sand through his fingers. Each day was gone in an instant. Still, they said goodnight to Mags, pulled the covers back on their bed, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

* * *

Finnick woke the next morning to an empty bed and the sun streaming through his windows. He joined Annie in the kitchen, where she was making muffins. "Blueberry," she supplied. "Mags' favorite. Want to bring them over with me?"

"Sure," he replied. The two of them made the short walk to Mags' house, not getting a response when they knocked on the door. 

"I'm going in," Annie said. "She's usually up by now."

Finnick followed Annie inside, the foyer looking still and undisturbed. Annie walked up the stairs, and moments later, the silence was broken by what could only have been the tray of muffins crashing to the floor. 

"Finnick!" Annie's panicked voice called, and his legs carried him upstairs before he could comprehend what was happening. She turned to him, eyes watery, and said, "I don't think she's breathing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support on the first chapter! Your kind comments mean so much to me. <3
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, even though the ending was upsetting (although, just a warning: this fic is going to have a lot of angst, especially later on). 
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated, but no pressure! Thanks for reading.


	3. Moving Forward

Finnick could only stare, silent, sickening horror creeping down his spine and settling in his stomach. Annie stood beside him, trembling.

"She's not breathing," she repeated. "She's not—she's not—" Annie's breath came in panicked gasps, quickening by the second. Finnick walked over to Mags' bedside and felt for a pulse, or shallow breath, or any sign of life.

Nothing.

"We need to tell someone," Finnick said shakily. "Hey, Annie, look at me. I know you're scared. I'm scared, too. But I need you to go knock on Coral's door and tell her that—" the words stuck in his throat. "Tell her what's going on. Can you do that?"

Still shaky, Annie nodded. Finnick turned back to Mags, laying still on her bed. Suddenly fatigued, he sank to the floor and cradled his head in his hands. How could this happen? It was too soon, she wasn't supposed to die. Not yet.

Head snapping up, he was reminded of the conversation he'd had with Snow just days ago. If he messed up, he would make sure Annie went back into the arena.

What better way to do that than to get rid of the person who was going to save her?

Only, he couldn't recall what he'd done wrong. He'd been so careful; he was always so careful. Why would Snow kill Mags? _How_ could Snow kill Mags? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

He must have sat there for longer than he'd thought, because the door opened again, and Annie and Coral filed into the room. Coral, having won her Games almost twenty years ago, was nearing forty, although she was most recent victor before himself.

Coral wore an expression of distraught shock at the sight in the bedroom. "Oh," she said softly. "I'm so sorry, Finnick. We need to notify the Peacekeepers so they can take her body."

Annie let out a quiet sob.

"She wanted to be cremated," Finnick said hollowly. Urgency creeping into his voice, he continued. "They need to know that."

"Then you can tell them." Coral extended her hand, helping Finnick to his feet. "It'll only take a few minutes, okay? Then I'll find someone to sit with you and Annie."

He wanted to respond that they weren't children, and they didn't need somebody to sit with them. But then again, he hadn't felt this young in a long time. So he just glanced at Annie, and said, "Okay."

He reached for Annie's hand, and she reached back, their fingers curling around each other like a lifeline. The talk with the Peacekeepers was short, like Coral promised. They took Mags' body out on a stretcher, and Finnick sat with Annie in her kitchen and watched.

"I can't believe she's gone," Annie murmured. "She's been here forever."

"I know."

"She shouldn't be gone. It's not fair."

"I know, Annie."

At some point, they moved to the couch, and Annie curled up at his side, shoulders shaking with cries. Finnick could do nothing but watch and hold her. He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing out the dark curls. Annie cried herself empty eventually, her sobs quieting to small whimpers then fading out entirely.

Finnick couldn't cry. The news hadn't sunk in yet. It felt like Mags would walk through the door any moment now, and they would go to the beach, and she would tell him to eat healthier, and they'd all laugh. But Mags would never walk through that door again, or talk to either of them again.

The thought evoked a bone-chilling sense of horror that nearly made him throw up.

"The coroner said it was a peaceful death," Finnick said, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse and his throat tightened with emotion. "Natural causes. She went in her sleep, didn't feel a thing."

Annie sniffled. "Good. At least she didn't have to go back."

Finnick didn't have to ask what she was referring to.

"It'll be okay," he said quietly. "Things'll be fine again soon."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," she replied.

"Is it working?"

"A little."

The rest of the night stretched on. Finnick hardly noticed the sunset until the room had gone dark. Annie was still curled up at his side, breathing evenly, dozing lightly on his shoulder. Overcome with a sudden weariness, Finnick let his eyelids flutter closed, reassured by Annie's breathing at his side.

* * *

The week after Mags' death passed in the blink of an eye, and yet it seemed to draw on forever. Reaping day was approaching, and it felt that every day was getting more and more tense. The victors of Four decided to do communal training sessions to prepare for the arena. If they all knew who was going in, nobody said anything.

A few of the victors were old enough to live out their lives without Capitol interference at all, and they had little reason to suspect that they would be going back. With Mags gone, Kai took the place of Four's oldest victor; he had won the 29th Games, and was now sixty-two. Finnick watched as he spun a spear in his hand gracefully.

Seeing everyone train again was incredibly jarring, to say the least. Some of these people were in their fifties and sixties; he didn't want to imagine them fighting in the arena like children, and the Capitol wouldn't, either.

They were on the beach, their private victor one, away from prying eyes. It was an ideal place to train because it was expansive and had no cameras, although the sand could make running difficult.

"Hey, Finnick!" Nerissa, fifty-two, and victor of the 40th Games waved him over. "Want to show me this proper knife hold again?"

"You know how to hold a knife, Nerissa," he replied. "What do you actually need?"

"Listen," she began, face softening. Nerissa was a Career back in her day, so she was bound to be tough; seeing her so open was strange. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about Mags. I know you two were close."

"Yeah," Finnick replied tightly. "How are you? How're the kids?"

She shrugged. "Oh, you know. They can handle it." Her gaze traveled to something behind Finnick. "What's she doing here?"

He turned around to see Annie standing a few feet away from where everyone was training, biting her lip in uncertainty. "Hey," he said, jogging over to her. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to train," Annie replied, voice wavering a little. "I'm going back in."

"Annie, you don't know that—"

"I do know that, and so do you." She took a deep breath, then spoke up again. "Who do you think they're going to want back in the arena? They're going to want people who will give them a good show. Not people who won't make it past the first day. I need to be prepared."

"Okay," Finnick replied slowly. "Okay, you're right. You should be prepared. I just don't like thinking about it, that's all. You in there."

"I know," Annie said softly. "I don't like thinking about you going back, either. So we can start out with something easy. Let's see if Kai will teach us how to make a fishhook."

Finnick raised his eyebrows. "Everyone knows how to make a fishhook."

"I said easy, didn't I?"

They laughed, and for a moment, it was like everything was normal. Fishhooks, a basic skill in District Four, were predictably easy, just as Annie had said. But it gave Finnick a chance to cool down after his more difficult training, and it gave Annie an opportunity to ease into it.

The other victors were very patient with her, much to his relief. Victors just understood each other in a way that nobody else could. So when Nerissa taught Annie how to throw a knife, or when Coral taught her how to throw the perfect punch, or even when Kai instructed her in the basics of making a fire, they were mindful of her triggers and patient when she got nervous.

"Hey."

Finnick startled at the sound of Coral's voice. "Hi," he replied. "How's Annie doing?"

"Oh, she's good. She learned most of this back in her Games, and skills like that don't really leave," she said. "It's more of a matter of getting her in the right frame of mind. Anyway, we're all going swimming, if you want to join."

One of the perks of having a private victors' beach was that there were no cameras or anyone watching them swim. Finnick could take his shirt off and wouldn't have to worry about people staring or pointing or taking pictures. He could just exist.

Sometimes, it seemed like victors were the only people he could just exist around.

They were something of a community, the victors of Four. A family, almost. The only one he had, now.

Finnick could recall his own family with startling clarity, even after years of not seeing them. They were alive, sure, but even a few years after his victory, his parents and older brother just didn't feel like home anymore. They didn't understand each other. The thread of family had grown more tenuous by the day, until it snapped when he was seventeen. They didn't like his escapades in the Capitol, and he couldn't tell them the truth, and that was that.

Besides, as much as he missed how things used to be, Finnick's family was safer if they didn't talk to him at all.

"Hey, Finn," Annie said as he made his way to the water. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. Annie wasn't as afraid of the water as she used to be. In the early days, when she was fresh out of the arena, even the sound of crashing waves could send her spiraling. Now, she could manage being in the water with little to no trouble, on the good days.

"Hey," he replied, peeling off his sweaty shirt and wading into the water. If there were any lessons they didn't need, it was swimming lessons, and they were both content to just relax.

"I'm going to miss this," said Annie softly. "Just...sitting here."

He thought of the upcoming reaping, the arena, the rebellion, and said, "Me, too."

They floated in the water, the hot sun beating down on them, the smell of the salt in the air. Whatever the arena was like, or whatever was coming after, he couldn't help but feel like this would be the last time he saw home for a while.

* * *

They made it back home by the end of the day, tired and weary from training. Although many of them had experience with training before, that didn't make it any easier to go through it again. Finnick knew it would only get worse come reaping day and beyond.

"I'm tired," Annie muttered, slipping off her shoes, passing her piano in the foyer and sitting on the couch. Moments later, Finnick joined her, sitting down with a tired sigh.

"Go to sleep," he suggested. "I probably will in a few minutes, if you want to come."

She laughed a little. "Smooth. But no, not yet. I made you something."

Rummaging through her pockets, Annie pulled out a piece of string with a seashell on it. She passed it to him, and Finnick inspected it. "What's this?"

"It's for you to wear in the arena," she replied softly. "Or the parade, or something. Just whenever you're missing home."

For a moment, his eyes watered, and he said nothing. Then, he looked up at Annie's hopeful face. "Thank you. It's beautiful. Do you...have a token in mind?"

They had passed the point of pretending like they weren't going to be the ones going in the arena. Without Mags there, nobody was going to volunteer for Annie. Coral and Nerissa both had people, non-victor people, to look out for. They wouldn't volunteer for her. And it was quite likely that the reaping bowl was rigged, although even if it wasn't, Annie's name still had a one in three chance of being pulled. Those odds were awful either way. And he would certainly be going back in. The Capitol wouldn't miss that opportunity, and neither would Plutarch.

"Not really," Annie answered. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

"We'll find you something," Finnick promised. "There's still time. I'll make you something, even."

"Oh, yeah? What'll you make me?"

He leaned in closer. "How about a bracelet? Made of rope, because that's the only bracelet I know how to make."

She laughed. "Sounds nice. What kind of knot?"

"Lover's knot, obviously."

"Subtle." Annie leaned into his touch, and Finnick wrapped his arms around her.

"Well, it is. It's not like anyone else can recognize a lover's knot, can they?"

She hummed in acknowledgement. "I suppose not. It'll be like our secret."

Secrets. He seemed to have a lot of those, these days. "You know," he began, leaning back and reaching for her hand. "One of these days, when this is all over, I'm going to climb on the roof and scream that I love you, and no one can stop me."

Annie raised her eyebrows. "How do you plan to get on the roof?"

"I'll find a way. Anyway, the point is, we won't have to hide anymore."

She smiled wistfully, and Finnick grinned. It was a beautiful sight, Annie's smile. There was something so special about it, when it was unreserved like that. It was something only he got to see, but it was so honest and genuine that he couldn't help but love her just a little more whenever he saw it. "I love you," he said before he could stop himself.

"I love you, too," Annie replied, laughing. "What do you say we get some sleep now?"

Finnick followed Annie all the way upstairs and into their bedroom. He pulled the covers back and climbed in bed, suddenly aware of how drained the day had made him. His last sight of the night was Annie smiling gently beside him, an _I love you_ on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw Mags :(
> 
> I am sorry about that, but it was the only way I could get Annie into the arena. I played with a few other versions before settling on this one, but none of them were really working, so this is the final result. 
> 
> Okay also, I know Coral is a character from TBOSAS, but I was not thinking of that when I wrote Coral in this story, and by the time I remembered, I had already gotten attached to the name. There's no connection or anything between this Coral and Coral from the prequel, just a clarification. Also yes I'm naming basically everyone in D4 after sea related things because I just think it's fun, lol. 
> 
> Alright almost done, but you may have noticed I mentioned Annie's piano in this chapter. If you're not familiar with my musician!Annie headcanon, here's a quick rundown: basically, piano is Annie's victor talent, which she picked up because her mother used to play. That's about all you need to know. It'll come up a bit in later chapters, so I just thought I'd explain here because I just realized that I never properly introduced the idea in the story itself. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for your support, it all means a lot! See you on Saturday for chapter 4, it'll be an important one! <3


	4. Red Sky at Morning

The next few weeks passed in relative haste, and Finnick would be lying if he said he was ready. How could he be, really? He and Annie were almost certainly going back in the arena, with people who he'd come to know as friends.

So when reaping day dawned sunny and sweltering, he had to pry himself from Annie's arms. "We should get dressed," he said dully.

Annie nodded, and stood up from bed shakily. "I don't feel ready."

He sighed, anxiety already building in his chest. This wasn't like his usual trips to the Capitol, or even his first time in the arena. Him going back in was one thing; Annie joining him made it unbearable. Not for the first time, Finnick found himself wishing for Mags and her comforting words and wise advice.

"I know," he replied, reaching for Annie's hand. "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? Step one, get dressed."

He chose a button up shirt with rolled up sleeves; perhaps a little too warm for summer in Four, but it would probably be the last time before the arena where he was able to wear clothes that covered a decent amount of skin. His necklace from Annie was the only accessory he wore. Annie chose a blue sundress and twisted her hair into a knot on her head, a few pieces falling to frame her face.

"We should go," Annie said numbly, as they made the slow and agonizing walk to the front door. Her eyes lingered on her piano sitting silently in the foyer, and Finnick could see how much she wanted to run back upstairs.

"Wait." He reached in his pockets to pull out a rope bracelet, which he slipped on Annie's wrist. "For you."

"A lover's knot," she said, with a little amused smile. "Like you said."

"Now we both have something to remember home," Finnick said, hand inching towards the doorknob. Wordlessly, he slipped his hand in Annie's as they walked outside, greeted by the hot sun. The walk to the town square couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. "I'll see you after," he promised, kissing her quickly while they were still out of sight from the cameras.

They had to stand on opposite sides of the stage, and Finnick couldn't help but feel profoundly alone next to Kai, who was the only other male victor. This was all wrong. Nothing about this felt okay; it felt fundamentally messed up, like it had broken the unspoken laws of the universe. Annie's name wasn't supposed to be in that bowl again. They shouldn't have to go into the arena together.

Vaguely, he couldn't help but wonder what his family was thinking of this. Were they upset, or worried? He couldn't see his parents or his older brother in the crowd, and he was glad for that. Perhaps they thought this was messed up, too. It seemed that a lot of people had their doubts about the Quell.

Still, their escort, a typically bubbly woman by the name of Glenna Wentworth, walked up to the microphone to begin the reaping. Finnick didn't know Glenna very well, as she had only been their escort for a couple of years. Annie had never even met her at all.

"Welcome, everyone, to the reaping of the 75th annual Hunger Games," Glenna said brightly, smile plastered on her face. The crowd was unresponsive save for a quiet fury simmering beneath the surface. The escort coughed awkwardly. "Let's do males first, shall we?" Her fingers reached for one of the slips of paper, and she walked back to the microphone, cleared her throat, and announced, "Finnick Odair."

It was no surprise, but he still felt the wave of terror, anyway. He could hear Annie cry out from behind him, but he couldn't turn to look at her, not with everyone watching. So he smiled a little, waved to the crowd, shook Glenna's hand, and pretended that this was all normal.

"Now for the ladies." Another tense beat of silence. "Annie Cresta!"

Something between a scream and a sob left Annie's mouth, loud and shrill and terrified. Coral had to nudge her up to center stage, and Finnick reached for her hand as soon as she got there. She was still trembling, tears streaming down her face, and Finnick wanted nothing more than to take her hand and run off the stage. But he was playing the game now, and he had to play it properly, so he raised their hands in a triumphant gesture of unity.

The crowd, steely-eyed and silent, didn't so much as clap. Nobody was okay with this. Glenna smiled at him gratefully, as if he was carrying the entire ceremony on his shoulders. He could hear a few cameras click, and wondered instinctively what the people in the Capitol might be thinking.

He'd soon get the chance to find out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta!"

Finnick and Annie stood on the reaping stage, hands clasped protectively in each other’s, District Four's tributes for the 75th Hunger Games.

* * *

The train ride, although he had taken it many times before, felt more surreal than ever. Annie was at his side, drawing panicked breaths in an effort to calm down. Coral had come along as their mentor, more for the sake of sponsorships than to actually teach them anything.

"I suppose we should get started with the recap of the reapings," Glenna said awkwardly, trying to ignore the tension in the room. "I'm sure there will be very interesting contenders this year."

"Sure, Glenna," Finnick said, glancing up at her. "Why don't you go get those set up, and we'll join you in a few minutes?"

Glenna looked briefly affronted, possibly because she had been told to do something, but stood up anyway. Smoothing down her puffy blue skirt, she left the room. Immediately, Finnick turned to Annie.

"Hey," he said softly, hoping to sound soothing. "Breathe with me, okay?"

"Finnick," Annie said, voice tight, like the very act of speaking was almost too much to handle. "I want to go home."

"You can." He willed his voice not to break. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens."

This seemed to upset her more. Eyes watery, she asked, "Then what about you? Only one of us comes out. If I come out, that means you're—"

He paused. By all accounts, she was right. He hadn't told Annie anything about the rebellion, or the wisp of a plan that Plutarch put in place. As far as she was aware, only one person was coming out of that arena. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time, remember? The next step is to watch the reapings with Glenna. Speaking of Glenna, did you see her hair?"

Annie cracked a small smile. "It's like she tried to look like the ocean, but it didn't really work out."

Finnick laughed, because it was certainly an accurate assessment. Their escort's reaping outfit consisted of a dress with large sleeves, a cinched waist, and an even larger skirt. Her hair was adorned with seashells and bits of decorative sea glass, dyed in various shades of blue and green. "Think she'd put seaweed on her wig if we told her it was a fashion trend in Four?"

"You think she'd believe that?" she asked, eyes wide.

Finnick shrugged. "Maybe. Want to go see?" He held out his hand and helped Annie up from the couch to join Coral and Glenna in the living room. "Hey, Glenna. Annie loves your hair, by the way. She thinks you should weave seaweed into it, though. Girls do that all the time back home."

Annie let out a sudden laugh, and Glenna raised a tentative hand to her wig as if genuinely considering the suggestion. "If you two are ready," the escort said primly after a moment, "the recaps are on."

Almost instantly, the mood soured again. Finnick settled on the couch to watch Cashmere and Gloss get reaped, golden hair glinting in the sunlight. Brutus and Enobaria of District Two were next, both of them sporting vicious smiles. Annie trembled slightly.

"They're all good competitors," Coral said. "You'll need to watch out for them."

Most of the reapings proceeded with little fanfare. Johanna glared into the camera the whole time, and Finnick inhaled sharply. He knew it was coming, but seeing one of his closest friends get reaped again wasn't easy.

"I'm sorry," Annie said quietly. "I know this must be hard for you, going in with all these people you know."

"Not your fault," he whispered back, eyes still fixed at the screen.

Finally, District Twelve was reaped, and Peeta and Katniss looked more unified than ever. Like in Four, the crowd of Twelve was not happy, and refused to make a noise.

"Well," Glenna trilled in her bright Capitol voice. "That concludes the reapings. I would ask if you wanted to talk about strategy, but," her voice broke a little, "I suppose that's not really necessary."

The three victors watched Glenna leave the room. "I'll be in my room if you need me." Coral stood up, gave them a sympathetic smile, and followed Glenna out.

He and Annie were alone in the room now, not that it made much of a difference. Neither of them were relaxed enough to strike up a conversation. Annie just leaned her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her close, acutely aware that their time in safety was running out.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. Nobody really knew what to say, and even Glenna stopped her futile attempts to make conversation. Even Coral, although she wasn't going into the arena, was tense; she had left her wife and two kids back in Four. Beside him, Annie shuffled food on her plate listlessly, mind elsewhere. Finnick didn't need to ask if she was okay.

"I'm not hungry," Annie muttered. She stood up and left the table, probably making her way to one of the rooms with the train's big windows.

"I'll be right back," Finnick said assuredly, mostly to Glenna. "I'm just going to check on her."

Just as he'd guessed, Annie sat curled up on one of the couches facing a wide window, the scenery rushing by. She didn't notice him come in, and he knew just walking up to her would be a bad idea, so he knocked lightly on the door frame. She jumped a little, but relaxed moments later.

"Hey," Annie said softly. "Sorry. I just...don't like being here."

"It's no problem," Finnick replied, joining her on the couch. "Hey, remember that fish stew they used to serve at the market?"

"The one that came with the bread?"

He grinned, already recalling the familiar smell of the stew and bread. Food from home was a lot easier to stomach than the rich Capitol food. "That's the one. Want me to see if somebody could bring some to us?"

Annie's eyes widened. "They can do that?"

"Sure, I just need to tell them the recipe. I learned it from..." his heart clenched. "From Mags."

She looked at him for a moment, like she could see right through him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About the stew?"

Annie huffed a little. "Not the stew. Mags. You were close."

Finnick sighed, because she wasn't wrong. But every time he thought about her, it would lead to something worse. Mags was dead, so Annie was going into the arena, so Annie could die. He could never dwell on the first part of the equation for very long before he started spiraling. But now, the worst had already happened. Annie was reaped. There was no need to think about that anymore. "I miss her," he said eventually. "Sometimes I'll think of something, and I'll turn around to tell her, and she's just gone."

Annie nodded, her face soft with sympathy. Wordlessly, she pulled him close, fingers running in slow, methodical strokes through his hair. Finnick wasn't sure what triggered it, but the tears started leaking from his eyes and on to Annie's shirt.

"Let's see if we can get that stew," Annie said gently.

It wasn't very hard to request anything in the Capitol, and soon they had a near exact replica of the stew and bread from home. Finnick could never get used to the way the Capitol could seemingly just summon anything they wanted, at any time. For once, though, he was grateful for it.

The tears stopped eventually, and he was just glad he was able to get it out before he was supposed to be on camera. "Better?" Finnick asked Annie through a mouthful of District Four bread.

"Better," she answered, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You?"

He nodded his confirmation, and they ate their meal in silence save for the rhythmic thumping of the train. The large window provided a beautiful view of the sunset, and he watched as the sky turned from a deep blue to pink to a purplish color.

"It's pretty," Annie said, gazing out the window. "Have we been sitting here for a long time?"

"A few hours, probably," he responded. There wasn't much else to say after that. Finnick and Annie both knew that they had separate rooms; they'd been sharing a bed for years, but couldn't risk it now, when they were being watched so heavily.

Instead, they sat on the couch, curled around each other, and watched the sun set in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the scene at the end, lol. Thanks for reading! <3


	5. Welcome to the Capitol

"Just a few more minutes, Finnick, you're going to look amazing."

The chattering of his prep team was a familiar sound, one that he'd grown accustomed to over the years. Nobody changed his prep team and stylist for the Quell, so he was well acquainted with these people, and everyone was quite upset at the turn of events. His prep team looked as though they might burst into hysterics at any moment.

"Almost done," said Philomena, a short woman with bright green hair and genetically modified emerald eyes. Her eyes misty, she stood back to survey his look. "It has been a pleasure working for you."

"Don't cry, 'Mena, you'll ruin your makeup right before the opening ceremonies." Another member of his prep team, Lucerne, a tall woman with wild blue curls, pulled Philomena back.

"You're right," Philomena replied, dabbing at her eyes. "It's just so tragic."

"Oh, you know I'll miss you, 'Mena," Finnick assured her with a sad smile. It wasn't entirely false; he had been working with these people for ten years, after all. As far as Capitol people went, they were far from the worst.

"We should get Vance in here, ladies," said Ephraim, the only male member of his prep team. "Finnick needs to get dressed."

"Yes, yes, of course," Lucerne muttered. "Good luck out there, Finnick. You'll be amazing!"

His prep team shuffled out the door, and the muffled sounds of crying left with them. Finnick waited for his stylist to present him with his outfit for the tribute parade; as of right now, he was wearing nothing but a thin robe, which wasn't very effective at keeping him warm.

"Good evening, Finnick." Vance, his stylist, entered the room. If he was upset like the prep team, he didn't show it. Instead, he merely revealed what Finnick would be wearing for the tribute parade.

Or...not wearing?

The outfit in question was less of an outfit and more of a strategically placed contraption of rope and glitter, probably made to resemble a net. Aside from a well placed knot, he was essentially naked. "Is this it?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Vance looked affronted. "Of course not. There's some jewelry, too."

Oh, of course, that'll help.

His stylist had selected a few bracelets and necklaces to reference District Four; a bracelet of rope, and a shell necklace. "Wait," Finnick said, catching sight of the necklace. He went over to his pile of belongings, where his discarded clothes sat. Reaching in one of the pockets, he pulled out the shell necklace Annie had made for him back home. "Would you mind if I wore this one instead?"

Vance looked intently at the necklace, then at Finnick's pleading face. He wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important, and the stylist knew it. "I suppose it'll work," he allowed.

Slipping on the necklace with a relieved smile, Finnick's look was complete.

"I think you're ready," Vance said.

With those words, he slipped out into the crowd. He immediately scanned the crowd for Annie. She was stood awkwardly near the District Four chariot, eyes flitting around uncertainly. Upon further sight of her, his breath caught in his throat. He would never get used to seeing her in Capitol attire, but she looked undoubtedly beautiful. Her dress had a tight bodice with a deep blue skirt fanning out below her knees, like a mermaid. Sequins on the bodice gave her a scaly appearance. Some sort of net material similar to his own acted as sleeves that covered her arms. Ribbons in various shades of blue and green had been woven into her dark curls, which bounced around her shoulders as she moved. She looked, simply put, like she had just walked out of the ocean.

"Finnick," Annie greeted him as he got closer. He could now see the little signs of her nervousness; the subtle crease of her eyebrows, the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the slight raise of pitch in her voice.

"Hey," he said, reaching for her hand in an effort to comfort her. "You look beautiful."

Her cheeks reddened. "Thanks. You look..."

He grimaced. "You don't have to say it. It'll get us sponsors, at least."

Before Annie could reply, they were interrupted by a disgruntled Johanna, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. "Hey, Odair," she said. "Nice outfit. Where's the rest of it?"

"Oh, you know, I must have misplaced it somewhere," Finnick replied with a laugh. "You'll let me know if you find it, yeah?"

Johanna rolled her eyes. "At least you two look good. My stylist is an idiot. Trees again, seriously? They couldn't have done something a little more original? Damn, look at Twelve."

Finnick's eyes followed Johanna's gaze to Katniss and Peeta, who were standing by the District Twelve chariot. Dressed entirely in black, with dramatic makeup, they certainly looked like a force to be reckoned with. Finnick let out a little hum of acknowledgement. "Does she look smaller in person to you?"

"She's a child," Johanna muttered. "Of course she's small."

"You're not much older," he responded with a roll of his eyes.

Johanna let out an amused huff of breath. "You should go talk to her."

Finnick sighed, although his mouth twitched a little. The idea was appealing, even if Katniss Everdeen knew nothing of what her future would hold. "Fine."

"Finn," Annie spoke up, reaching for his arm. "Be nice."

He sent Annie a little smile, one that said _I will_ , and she got the message. As he left, he heard Johanna say goodbye to Annie and walk away.

Finnick grabbed a sugar cube on his way, and went to talk to Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

The tribute parade progressed nearly exactly as he expected. The crowd went ballistic over his outfit, or lack thereof. Annie got a few cheers as well, although she gripped his hand the whole time, pale as a sheet. Still, they made an attractive pair, and the crowd thought so, too.

The parade ended with Katniss and Peeta lighting up on fire, again. If the crowd liked him and Annie, it was nothing compared to their reactions to District Twelve. No wonder Plutarch believed in her so strongly; with her stoic expression and the fire crackling behind her, she looked formidable.

Although it wasn't custom, many of the victors stuck around after the parade to talk and catch up. Finnick, as much as he wanted to, refrained from even holding Annie's hand. It had been ingrained into him to keep their relationship secret, and in such a public place, doing anything more than merely brushing her shoulder felt dangerous.

"Hey," Johanna said, coming up behind him. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, so it caught Finnick's attention immediately. Johanna's eyes traveled from him to Annie at his side, then back again. "I'm heading back to my room. See you later. And don't stay up too late; training's at ten tomorrow."

For a brief moment, Finnick found himself wondering why Johanna was so deliberate in announcing her departure. Her particular word choice struck him as odd. _See you later._ Not _see you tomorrow._ It only took a moment before it clicked. Johanna was telling him about a rebellion meeting later that night. At ten, precisely. "See you later, Jo," he called after her, just to show that he understood.

Beside him, Annie yawned. "Hey, I think I'm going to go back, too. Want to come?"

"Sure," Finnick said, glad for the chance to leave. Before he could, though, something stopped him.

"Finnick, would you wait just a moment?"

Even with his back turned, the voice still made his blood run cold. Finnick turned back around slowly, greeted by President Snow's politely inquisitive face. "Of course," he answered mechanically. Then, to Annie, "Go on. I'll be with you soon."

Reluctantly, with one last glance at him, Annie made her way to the elevator.

"First," Snow began, "I'd like to give my condolences. I heard about Mags. She'll be missed."

Finnick's eyes narrowed, flashing back to the morning they found her body. He had been under the impression that Snow had done it, somehow. That, more indirectly, Finnick had caused it. "Thank you," he replied stiffly.

The president raised his eyebrows, as if he could read Finnick's mind. "My dear boy, I hope you are not under the impression that I had something to do with her death?"

Finnick wanted to scream back, be as disruptive as possible, but he didn't. Couldn't. But his silence was answer enough.

"I may be many things," Snow said casually. "But I am not wasteful. There was no reason for her to die. You certainly did everything just right. And I'm sorry about Miss Cresta, too. I know this must be a difficult time. Which is why I would like to make a modification to our deal."

"A modification," Finnick echoed. Their deal was that if he helped the Capitol suppress the rebellion, Snow would keep Annie out of the arena. But Annie was going into the arena; nothing could be done about it.

"Yes. Now, I am aware that the Capitol would very much like to see you win. However, I have another proposal for you: you hold up your end of the bargain, and you can choose who goes home. You or Annie."

"Annie," he answered automatically. "Annie needs to go home."

"Then it's settled," Snow said, a smile pulling at his lips. "Of course, I can't make any promises. I've heard the arena is going to be quite extravagant this year. If Miss Cresta can survive that, then I will turn the odds in her favor."

Finnick must have nodded and said goodbye, because by the time he looked up again, Snow was gone. His mind was reeling. The very fact that Snow was making a deal with him now was a good thing. He believed that Finnick was still working for him.

The deal was appealing, to be sure. Annie could have the chance to live, but only if he and Katniss and all the others were dead. Hope would be dead.

Annie needed to live. He couldn't survive without her. But he also didn't think he could survive much longer in a world ruled by Snow, either. He needed a way to keep Annie safe without compromising the rebellion's success.

With the stress of his circumstances weighing on his shoulders, he stepped into the elevator and let the doors close behind him.

* * *

Later that night, Finnick slipped out of bed. Beside him, Annie stirred gently but didn't wake. Both of them went to bed fairly early after the parade, too tired to do anything else. And although he knew that sharing a bed with Annie was going to raise some questions, neither of them could sleep without the other.

Finnick glanced at Annie's sleeping form one last time before slipping out of the room. The lobby of the Training Center was still abuzz with activity, and he knew that the Capitol would be up partying into the early hours of the morning. They always were more enthusiastic during Games season.

Johanna's earlier words echoed in his head. _Training's at ten tomorrow._ Training was at ten, but that wasn't important at the moment. What was important was the meeting he had to attend at ten, in just five minutes.

Slipping into the crowd was easy. Seeing Finnick Odair at a party, especially during Games season, was hardly unusual. Although usual tributes had to stay in their rooms, tributes this year had more freedom in where they went. So at approximately two minutes before ten, Finnick slipped away into one of the small, closet-like rooms off the hallway.

"Hey," Johanna greeted him as he walked in. "Cresta's not with you?"

"She doesn't know anything," Finnick answered. "It's to keep her safe."

If Johanna was going to respond, she didn't get the chance to, because Plutarch spoke up moments later. "Thank you all for coming. Now, we do have a plan, but we need to get out of here quickly."

"Good," Johanna muttered into his ear. "It's like he purposely chose the smallest room just to make us miserable."

Finnick smirked, because she really wasn't wrong. The room was crowded with rebellion supporters: him and Johanna, Haymitch, Beetee and Wiress from 3, Chaff and Seeder from 11, and the morphlings from 6.

"I think we can all agree that the goal is to get Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark out alive," Plutarch was saying. "At least until District Thirteen's hovercraft can pick them up."

"How long will that be?" Johanna asked.

Beetee cleared his throat. "We've devised a system to communicate the days and hours left via bread. The district the bread originated from will indicate the number of days, and the number of rolls will indicate the hours."

Beetee went on to explain the plan to blow a hole the arena's force field using a spool of wire, which gave them even more people they had to keep alive. The plan couldn't continue with District Three out of the game.

Finnick was starting to feel like he and Annie were the only expendable ones.

"You need to protect them both," Haymitch said to the group. "Not just the girl. She won't cooperate if Peeta dies. And under no circumstances are you to tell them the plan."

"We'll meet at the rendezvous point at midnight, where the hovercraft will pick you up. Does everyone understand?" Plutarch asked, checking his watch impatiently. Various murmurs sounded in the group, and he took that as a yes. "Good. We'll need to stagger our exits. Chaff and Seeder can go first."

"Plutarch," Finnick said after the room had cleared a little. "What about Annie? She can't walk in there clueless." And that was true. Finnick did want to keep her safe, but it was difficult to walk the tightrope of how much information he could give her. Too much and she could give something away if she's captured, but too little and she's a liability.

"I agree," Plutarch replied. "She doesn't need to be entirely informed on the plan. She only needs to know enough that she can do what's necessary without giving anything away."

That was easier said than done. "I need to keep her safe," Finnick said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I can't let her get hurt because of me."

"Think about it, Odair," Haymitch spoke up. "You really think that when that arena blows, their first priority is going to be your girl? They don't care about her. They're going to be after Katniss and Peeta, then maybe you and Johanna. But they're going to assume Annie knows nothing and not bother."

Finnick paused. Haymitch was right; the Capitol wasn't threatened by Annie. The likelihood of her getting captured was low, as long as she made it to the right place at the right time. "You're right," he said eventually. "I'm going to go, Annie'll be waiting."

"Say hi to your girl for me," Haymitch said as he left.

Finnick made his way back to his apartment at the Training Center, fighting off the fatigue. It was only a matter of days until they entered the arena. Until they could act on their plan.

Annie was still sleeping soundly when he made it back to bed, her chest rising and falling evenly with every breath. Vaguely, he imagined waking up to this sight in District Four every morning, without worrying that it would be taken from him at any moment. Perhaps they could get married. Maybe start a family. The thought was intoxicating. Before, he had never given his future with Annie much thought. Not because he didn't care, but because he cared too much; if he thought about it for too long, he would start to think of everything he couldn't have.

Now, for the first time in years, there was a possibility that he and Annie could have that life. And Finnick thought that, perhaps, it would all be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I can't believe I'm going to be posting chapters of this until April. That's such a long time. 
> 
> Anyway, we're in the Capitol now! One of the things I struggle with in writing is description, especially describing outfits, but the Capitol setting provides the perfect opportunity to describe elaborate outfits in detail. I hope the outfit descriptions in this chapter weren't too bad (I'm mainly talking about Annie's because we already know what everyone else looked like). Feel free to send me an ask on Tumblr or something if you want to see the pictures I used as inspiration for outfits at any time. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, see you on Saturday. <3


	6. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is really inventive, lol. I couldn't think of a better one, but I'm definitely open to suggestions.

When Finnick woke the next morning, tangled bed sheets and wrapped around Annie, he thought for a moment that he was at home. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting a beautiful picture of early morning tranquility. Annie stirred beside him, waking up with a small yawn, her hair falling haphazardly down her shoulders in tousled waves. It took a moment before the truth registered. He was not at their house in Victor's Village, the morning would be anything but tranquil, and he and Annie were technically not supposed to be sharing a bed. 

Really, it was pure luck that they had woken up when they had. Any later and Glenna would have walked in, ready to wake him up so he could prepare for the day. 

"G'morning," Annie murmured, voice slurred from sleep. As the realization dawned on her, too, her relaxed gaze sharpened a little. "I'm not supposed to be in here, am I?"

"Not really," Finnick answered, climbing out of bed and running a hand through his tousled hair. "We don't have long before Glenna comes in. Do you want to go get dressed in the bathroom or something? I can cover for you when she comes in."

"Sure," Annie replied, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "See you soon." She walked into the bathroom, out of sight, just before Glenna opened the door to wake him up. 

"Oh, good, you're up," the escort chirped, heels clicking on the tiled floor. "Have you seen Annie yet? I was just about to go to her room."

Finnick waved a dismissive hand. "You don't need to do that. She's on the roof watching the sunrise. I can go get her for breakfast, if you want."

Glenna's face brightened at the suggestion. "Why, thank you, Finnick. That's very kind of you. Now, remember, training starts at ten. Don't be late!"

"I'll be there," he promised, nearly ushering her out the door. As soon as his door clicked closed, Annie opened the bathroom door. Her hair had been brushed and tied up in a ponytail. She wore the customary training attire; a sleeveless tank top and leggings, both made out of an athletic, breathable material. The Avoxes must have brought Annie's clothes to his room when they saw they were sharing. 

Finnick got dressed quickly, and he and Annie made their way to the dining room for breakfast. Glenna and Coral were already sitting down, making quiet conversation. 

"There you are," Glenna said, flashing them a bright smile. She continued to list reminders about training, and about their schedule, although Finnick zoned out for most of it. It wasn't like he'd never been a tribute before. Annie, by the looks of it, was only partially listening.

"Thank you, Glenna," Coral interrupted, stopping their escort's urgent reminder session. "I'm sure they remember."

An odd expression flickered across Glenna's face, something between affronted and upset. "Right. Of course. Well, you two had better get going now, you don't want to be late!" Her voice seemed to raise an entire octave in an attempt to hide the tension.

"What's up with her?" Annie asked him once they were out of earshot.

Finnick shrugged. "She's probably upset. This whole Quarter Quell thing is very hard on the Capitol, haven't you heard?" He couldn't keep the bitterness from tinging his voice. Annie said nothing in response, only reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as they rode the elevator.

By the time they reached the training room, it was ten o'clock, and only about half the tributes had bothered to show up. Finnick couldn't say he was surprised; many of the tributes were on the older side or in poor health due to addiction or illness. In fact, majority of the tributes that made it to training were the young and able-bodied; the Careers, Johanna, Katniss and Peeta, himself and Annie. 

"It looks empty," Annie remarked distantly. Her eyes flickered nervously across the room. She was undoubtedly swimming in bad memories here. Habitually, Finnick reached for her hand to act as an anchor.

"Guess not everyone was interested in training," he replied with a small shrug. "So, where to first?"

Annie looked around the room again. "Hey, has there always been a swimming station here?"

Finnick's eyes traveled in the direction of her gaze. Sure enough, a moderately sized swimming pool sat off to one corner of the large gym. The training available was usually an indicator of what would be in the arena. Did the swimming pool mean an aquatic environment? "No," he answered. "There hasn't. Why, you want to try it out? We could do something familiar as a warm-up."

She laughed, although Finnick could hear the hint of relief creeping into her voice. "Sure."

They were the only ones at the swimming station, and the trainer seemed somewhat perplexed to see them, of all people, there. Finnick and Annie just disregarded the training aspect, got dressed in the swimsuits perfectly tailored to their bodies, and swam laps together. It was exerting exercise, but it was familiar, and it gave the both of them a chance to unwind a little before really starting training. "Hey, Annie," he said, about a half hour into their swim. "Race me?"

She accepted the challenge readily, and they lined up at the wall and took off. Finnick's strokes cut effortlessly through the water, but Annie was a fast swimmer, too. The main advantage he had on her was wingspan, but other than that, they were fairly evenly matched. 

"Well, at least now we know we can swim," Annie said, amused, as they dried off. "Although we should probably go practice something new, now."

Finnick nodded, and they surveyed the room again. They still had a couple of hours before lunch time, and many of the training options were things he'd already mastered. "What about edible plants?"

Annie agreed, and they spent the rest of their morning getting a good sense of the other stations. Finnick spent some time throwing spears with Districts One and Two, trying not to think about how he'd be fighting them for real in the arena in just a few days. 

"You joining us this year, Finnick?" Cashmere asked him expectantly, examining the blade of a knife in her hand. 

His eyes traveled to Annie, who was chatting with the District Six victors at the camouflage station. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His focus on Annie was enough. A mutual understanding passed between them. 

"We can probably make room for your girl, if she wants to join," Enobaria offered. 

"No, thanks," Finnick replied, hurling another spear at the target. "I think I'll stick with Annie."

They knew, of course, about his relationship with Annie. They knew him, in the way that all victors knew each other. Perhaps even more so, because of the numerous years their tributes had worked together. 

"Good luck in there, then," Gloss said, patting his shoulder in an almost friend-like gesture. 

"You, too," he replied, then it was over. 

Lunch, surprisingly, was a relatively cheerful affair. He and Annie talked with Johanna and listened to Cecelia's stories about her children and laughed at Chaff's bad jokes. They weren't a room full of awkward teenagers, this time. They were a room full of friends, with varying degrees of closeness, but friends nonetheless. It would make the arena even more difficult, especially for the people who weren't in on the plan. But for the moment, they could talk and laugh and eat and forget about their circumstances. 

After lunch, Finnick caught sight of Katniss at the fishing station. Aside from a brief interaction at the knot-tying station earlier that day, they hadn't really talked, and he still wanted to introduce her to Annie. Besides, if Annie was going to know about the plan, she should know what she was fighting for. 

"Hey, Katniss," Finnick greeted her at the fishing station. "This is Annie."

Annie gave a little smile. "Hi."

Katniss regarded Annie warily for a moment, probably trying to recall what Games she won and how she won them. Finally, after a long second, she responded with, "Hi."

"Are you having trouble with the fishhooks?" Annie asked, eyes falling on Katniss' attempts. "I can show you the best way to make them, if you want."

"Sure," Katniss agreed. Finnick settled down at the station beside Annie, listening to their conversation but not contributing, fingers working habitually to make a few fishhooks. 

Annie instructed Katniss on the basics of fishhooks, and Finnick could tell she was gathering more information than just how to fish. If anything Haymitch said about her was true, she would need some convincing to get her to ally with them. If he couldn't do the job, then Annie certainly could. 

"Nice job," Annie was saying as she admired one of Katniss' more recent fishhooks. "Keep making them like that and you could fit into District Four in no time."

Katniss smiled a little at the praise, and Finnick could have sworn he saw her make a decision. It was the slight relaxation of her shoulders, the subtle upwards twitch of her mouth, the way her looks at Annie turned from wary to simply curious. 

By the time she finished her archery demonstration at the end of the day, leaving everyone in awe, Finnick was glad he got her at least partially open to an alliance with District Four. 

* * *

The next few days of training passed uneventfully, all things considered. Finnick stuck mainly with Annie as they traveled around the stations, taking in a wide range of information, much of which they already knew. He was there when she got too nervous and had to take a break, and she was there for him in return. It was the best they could do for each other; Finnick couldn't save Annie from the arena, not now. But if he could make it a little easier for her, he was sure as hell going to try. 

As training progressed, Katniss and Peeta were absorbed into the group. People didn't know how to react to two new members joining their community, especially under such strange circumstances. But Katniss' archery demonstration had shown everyone that she was not to be messed with. She was one of them. 

He even got archery lessons from her, in exchange for trident lessons from him. They were making progress, or so it felt like. Katniss was still hard to read, so it was difficult to tell if his efforts were actually getting anywhere. 

He just hoped that when the time came, Katniss would be ready to fight with them. 

On the third day of training, after lunch, was the private assessments with the Gamemakers. It had been ten years since Finnick had done his. For many of the victors, it had been much longer. 

"What do you think you'll do?" Annie asked him as they ate lunch. 

"Throw around a trident, probably," he replied, shuffling food around on his plate. "They liked that last time." And they did; he could still remember the Gamemakers' impressed faces from his last assessment when he was just fourteen. This time, the Gamemakers knew him, from his Games and all the years afterward. They were expecting something from him, and he had been trained to deliver. 

Besides, as far as Snow knew, he was on their side. Anything even remotely indicating rebellion was out of the question. Whatever he did, it would have to be good enough to get a good score without putting a target on his back. 

"I think I'll swim and make some fishhooks," Annie mused with a mild shrug. "I don't think they'll really expect much from me."

"That just means you can exceed their expectations," Finnick said, smiling gently. 

"I know what I'm doing." Johanna sat next to them, slamming her plate on the table with a thud. 

"What?" Finnick asked, amused. "Strip naked and ask one of the trainers to wrestle you? Bet that'll get you a good score."

"No, I thought you'd be doing that," Johanna deadpanned. "I'm throwing an axe, obviously. Cresta?"

Annie watched their exchange with an amused smile. "I'm swimming, probably. And making fishhooks. Hopefully the arena's aquatic."

"It wouldn't surprise me if it was," Johanna replied, nodding. "They want Finnick to win."

It was only a moment later when they called Gloss forward, and the assessments began. The mood in the room dampened significantly. The friendly chatter had been replaced with quiet, concentrating murmuring that slowly faded into silence as people waited their turn. 

He didn't have to wait very long before his name was called. He gave Annie's hand a brief squeeze, then entered the gym. 

As usual, there was nothing to indicate what the tribute before him, Wiress in this case, had done. So Finnick slipped on his trademark smile and picked up a trident, taking a few moments to twirl it in his hands to convey his supposed ease. 

Then, in a few fluid motions, he threw the tridents at the targets. Capitol tridents varied significantly from District Four's fishing tridents, but he had experience with both. Each trident hit its target nearly perfectly. Like a dance, he threw the tridents, sometimes twirling them in the air, or curving them a certain way. 

When the Gamemakers stared at him with the same attentive awe as they did ten years before, Finnick knew he had done his job. 

* * *

The tribute scoring occurred the same day as the private assessments, just several hours later, well into the evening. The District Four team sat in the living room, and nobody was missing the announcements. Even his prep team and Vance came to watch, even though they weren't strictly confined to the Training Center.

Annie gripped his hand nervously. That seemed to be all of what they were doing lately; holding each others' hands in an effort to make things just marginally better. "I'm nervous," she told him, so quietly that only he could hear. 

"It'll be fine," he responded, just as quiet, their own private talk. "You swam, right?"

Wordlessly, she nodded. 

"Well, there you go. That's a guaranteed good score for sure."

Annie's grip on his hand loosened slightly. 

As usual, the District One scores were announced first. Cashmere and Gloss both achieved respectable high scores for Careers, as did Brutus and Enobaria. Beetee and Wiress scored a little lower, more in the middle range. Finally, District Four came up. Finnick's face flashed on the screen, displayed next to a bold number 10. 

"Ten!" Glenna exclaimed. "Wonderful, Finnick."

His prep team nearly squealed. "That's even better than your first score!" said Philomena. 

Annie's picture flashed on the screen next, displaying a score of 7. Beside him, she sighed in relief. "Good," she said, voice shaky. "A seven's fine."

"A seven is a very good score," Glenna responded approvingly. Annie flushed at the praise. A ten and a seven; two good scores for the both of them. 

Johanna scored an eight, and Finnick made a mental note to congratulate her later. Katniss and Peeta both achieved scores of twelve, though, and that just about out shined the rest of them. They didn't give out scores of twelve for just anyone. As far as he could remember, they didn't give out scores of twelve at all. Mags would remember, though, he knew. She was reliable like that. 

The tributes from Twelve either did something extremely impressive or extremely reckless, but probably the latter. He just wondered if they knew exactly the effect their actions had on everyone else around them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember this chapter being hard to write because I didn't want it to be too redundant, seeing as we get all this information in Catching Fire. So I hope this (and the coming chapters) didn't feel too repetitive, I tried to add some other details in there that weren't in the book. 
> 
> I don't think there was a swimming pool in the training room, but given the arena, it would make sense. And I wanted Annie and Finnick to get some swim time. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading and for all of your support! Your kinds words mean so much to me. <3


	7. The Countdown

The day after the private assessments with the Gamemakers was typically reserved for interview preparations with the mentor and escort respectively. Finnick knew this well; he had been on both sides of the process. He never did expect to be on the receiving end of the instruction again, though.

On the bright side, Glenna and Coral had given them the entire day off, either out of sympathy or practicality. Whichever it was, Finnick didn't care; he had an entire day to spend with Annie before the arena. One day was hardly enough, and it probably would never be, but in a time where he could count down the hours before they'd both be fighting for their lives, one day may as well have been an eternity.

"What do you want to do today?" Finnick asked Annie as they lounged on the couch, full from breakfast. Glenna and Coral were out getting sponsors, he assumed, and they had the entire apartment to themselves.

Well, except for the cameras.

Today, though, he tried not to worry to much about Snow listening in on their conversations. He refrained from saying anything political or rebellious, but as far as he was concerned, anything else was fair game. Within the next few weeks, he'd either be dead or with District Thirteen, and the need to pretend would be eliminated from the equation altogether. It was almost too good to be true.

"Not sure," Annie murmured, one hand trailing lazily over the seams of the couch. "I don't think we're allowed to leave the building."

"I don't think I want to leave the building," he responded with a small smile. The thought of the disorienting lights, blaring music, and grabbing hands was enough to keep him inside. Besides, security in the Training Center was tight, even more so with the current state of the country.

"So," Annie said, sitting up and turning to face him. "What is there to do around here?"

He thought for a moment. "We could go on the roof. They have a garden up there now, did you know?"

Annie grinned. "I didn't know that. Want to show me?"

The walk to the roof didn't take long, and they made it there to find hot sun, flower gardens, and Katniss and Peeta having a picnic. "Looks like we weren't the only ones with this idea," he muttered, watching with an amused expression as the other couple played a game with apples and the force field. Katniss and Peeta hadn't seen them yet, and Finnick wasn't going to interrupt one of their last days in relative safety, so he and Annie quietly made their way back down the stairs.

"Now that the roof's out of the question," he began as they settled back on the couch, "how about I take you somewhere?"

"That's cryptic," she replied thoughtfully. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." He stood up and held out his hand, grinning when she accepted it.

There was a room off the lobby of the Training Center, one where the victors would gather at the end of every Games. For a few short hours, no matter the time of day, they would laugh and drink and talk and forget, temporarily, that they had been competitors through their tributes. It was an unspoken tradition; nobody mentioned it beforehand and nobody spoke of it after. But it was something many of them did, every year, without fail.

If his suspicion was correct, there would be at least somebody spending time in that room today. 

"This way," he said, leading Annie through the crowd in the lobby. "In here."

The room was smaller than he remembered, but like the lobby, sported the same opulence that marked many Capitol buildings. As he had predicted, the room was not empty. Among others, Johanna, Haymitch, Chaff, Cecelia, and Seeder all sat around the main table or in smaller armchairs off to the side.

"Hey, Finnick's here!" Chaff greeted him with a loud laugh and a well meaning pat on the back. "And Annie Cresta. Haven't seen you since your Tour." He gave Annie a firm handshake, which she returned with a somewhat bemused smile.

Finnick joined Johanna at the table as Annie got to know the other victors. There was something of a unique bond between them. They didn't have to like each other; in fact, many of them didn't like each other at all. But they all appreciated each other in the way that one appreciated their family. They were there when nobody else was, and that meant something.

"So your girl's finally meeting everyone," Johanna drawled, taking a sip of some unidentifiable amber liquid swishing in a glass. "You sure we won't scare her off?"

He reached for the bottle and poured himself a glass. "Give her a chance. She's stronger than you think."

"Of course she is, otherwise she wouldn't be a victor."

Shrugging slightly, he took a sip of his drink. The bitter liquid burned all the way down his throat, making his eyes water. Beside him, Haymitch chuckled a little.

A few more people came and went throughout the morning, but nearly everyone stopped in at some point to say hello. It seemed that many of the victors' publicity skills had been deemed acceptable; nobody was really preparing for the interviews in the way most tributes did. By lunchtime, Finnick had spoken with nearly everyone.

"I can't believe Caesar dyed his hair purple this year," Brutus grumbled over a drink.

"Not manly enough for you?" Finnick asked him with a playful smile. Brutus rolled his eyes.

Cashmere shrugged. "Purple's not so bad. Remember the year he did lime green?"

"I try not to," Enobaria replied, somewhat scathingly. Finnick couldn't help but agree; the lime green hadn't been one of Caesar's best looks.

He caught sight of Annie talking with Seeder across the room. Gradually, the Careers' conversation about Caesar's hair color faded into the background as Annie locked eyes with him. "I'll be right back," he muttered distractedly. Vaguely, he heard them complain about the year Caesar chose crimson.

"Finnick," Seeder greeted him, her smile sympathetic. "We're all sorry to hear about Mags."

His breath caught in his throat, but he managed a "thank you." Mags had been something of a mother to many of them. She was old enough to watch the evolution of the Games from the near beginning, and she saw almost all of the victors win.

Seeder patted his arm gently, then headed in Cecelia's direction.

"Hey," Annie said once Seeder had left. "Ready for lunch?"

He nodded, but before could start walking, Haymitch waved him over. "Just a second," he told Annie. In a few long strides, he was at Haymitch's side. "What?"

Haymitch slipped something into his hand, smooth and metal. "I need you to wear this in the arena."

He glanced down to see a golden bangle resting on his palm, flames decorating the sides. It occurred to him to ask why, but he found that he really didn't need to. The flames gave it away. "I already have a token," he said instead.

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, you know that," Haymitch replied. "But she's not cooperating. This is the only option to get her to ally with you."

"And you think she'll get the message?"

Haymitch looked at him intently for a moment. "She'll understand. Just make sure she sees it, got that? I'll keep your token safe, if you want."

Finnick sighed, then slipped Annie's seashell necklace from his neck. It felt strange not having it on. He had been wearing the necklace for days, and it had become an oddly comforting weight around his neck. "Fine." He slipped the necklace in Haymitch's waiting palm, then joined Annie by the door.

"Ready to go?" he asked her. At her nod of confirmation, they intertwined their hands, slipping back into the lobby and letting the door close softly behind them.

* * *

Finnick stood up straight as Vance adjusted another wrinkle in his interview outfit. He had spent nearly the entire day getting ready for the interviews. His prep team had been getting more emotional by the day, and tonight, they had to hold back tears as they prepared him for the stage, adjusting his outfit and styling his hair.

"You look wonderful as always," said Lucerne, stepping back to admire her handiwork with misty eyes.

"Just gorgeous," added Philomena, although she sounded much less happy than her words implied. Finnick gave them an apologetic smile, and the two women blushed and looked away.

His interview outfit was considerably more modest than his parade outfit, much to his relief. A long-sleeved shirt made of a soft, breathable material, with a low neckline in the front, exposing much of his chest. Pieces of cloth in deep blues and silvery greens were cinched with a belt at his waist and formed a skirt-like ensemble that ended around his knees. Boots were laced up to the middle of his calves, and he had on a few nautical themed necklaces to complete the look. For a moment, he wondered where his seashell necklace was, but he had to reconcile with the fact that he wouldn't be seeing it for a while.

Vance sprayed something in his hair and used his fingers to mold it into that careless looking style that actually took quite a lot of time. "You're ready," his stylist declared.

Finnick made the short walk to the tribute line on his own. It was jarring to see the victors lined up for interviews like scared little children. In some ways, it felt like Mags would come up behind him at any moment, adjust his stray pieces of hair, and tell him to make her proud.

He blinked rapidly a few times to get rid of the sudden prick of tears in his eyes.

Standing in line beside Annie, he caught his first glimpse of her dress. In typical District Four fashion, her dress was derived from the ocean and its elements, using hues of blues and greens. Annie's dress fit tight at the bodice and cinched at the waist, but flowed out at the skirt. Both the skirt and the bodice were made from a turquoise material, covered by a darker blue tulle, making her look like she was dressed in water as the skirt swished around her ankles. A transparent material rested on her chest and shoulders, and it was adorned with small decorative pearls and bits sea glass that made it look like those pretty decorations rested directly on her bare shoulders.

"You ready?" he asked. Annie bit her lip, fingers twitching nervously at her side.

"I don't think they'll like me," she replied, a concerned frown tugging at her lips. "They didn't like me the first time."

"This isn't the first time," Finnick assured her, reaching for her hands. "You have me, this time. And I've got you."

"Okay." Annie drew a deep breath. "Okay," she said again, quieter, like she was trying to reassure herself.

The line went quiet, and it took Finnick a moment to realize why. Katniss walked out in a bridal gown, the same one that the Capitol voted on months ago. The one she would have worn to her wedding. After a tense moment of silence, Finnick spoke up. "I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing."

Her eyes narrowed. "He didn't have a choice. President Snow made him."

"Well, you look ridiculous," Cashmere said after a moment, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and pulling Gloss away.

He and Annie exchanged glances as the interviews began. Clearly, although nobody had talked about it beforehand, many of them had been placing the blame for the Quell directly on the Capitol's shoulders. Cashmere and Gloss played the empathy card, talking about how bad they felt for the Capitol, who would be losing their favorite victors. Beetee questioned its legality. Before he knew it, it was Annie's turn.

Her dress was even more mesmerizing when she moved. The skirt swirled gently around her ankles like water, and the lights hit the pearls on her shoulders perfectly.

Caesar welcomed her to the stage with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. Although Annie started out shakily, she gradually became more comfortable. The Capitol seemed oddly charmed by her, as if she were a slightly eccentric being that they could fawn over.

Finnick didn't like it, but if it got them help in the arena, then hopefully it would be worth it.

Annie followed in the footsteps of the victors before her, talking about how much she would miss the sea and her piano at home. She regaled the audience with charming stories of District Four, tinged with just the right amount of sadness and longing that made the audience sigh.

He was so entranced by her that he didn't realize it was his turn until Caesar shouted his name. As he walked on the stage, greeted by the scalding stage lights he could never quite get used to, the crowd roared.

"Finnick Odair," Caesar said with awe, looking at him intently. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to see you on this stage again. Tell me, how are you feeling right now?"

He took a moment to think his answer through. "Well, Caesar, this was an unexpected twist for me, too. But it's wonderful to be back here."

The crowd cheered at that, as if he had just praised them all individually.

"I'm sure," Caesar agreed. "But tell me," he leaned in conspiratorially, "is there anyone out there who's missing you right now?"

The only person missing him would be joining him in the arena tomorrow, but he kept that to himself. "Actually, there is someone." The audience broke out into excited whispers. "I was wondering if I could read a poem for them tonight."

Caesar raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Of course, go right ahead."

The poem was, of course, for Annie, not that anybody else could tell. He was certain that every woman in the Capitol thought it was for them, but it was obvious to the one person who needed to hear it. If he couldn't explicitly tell Annie that he loved her while they were being watched, he could at least do so implicitly.

"That was beautiful, Finnick." Caesar wiped a few tears from his eyes. "Unfortunately, we're running out of time. Ladies and gentlemen, Finnick Odair!"

The crowd erupted into applause once more, and Finnick made his way to where the others were sitting in a row. He sat down beside Annie, tapping her leg three times in one subtle movement. It was a signal they had devised years ago, back when Annie had just won her Games. Three taps meant _I'm here_ and _you're not alone,_ but had since evolved into _I love you._

The next few interviews passed rather uneventfully. Finnick did enjoy Johanna's saccharine declaration of why it was just so upsetting for the Quell to be severing the bond between the cherished bond between the victors and the Capitol. It was so clearly fake, but the Capitol ate it up.

The audience was emotional by the time Katniss took the stage. The scene of her in her bridal gown nearly sent them over the edge. Finally, they got to talking about the wedding and Katniss stood to twirl.

Flames swallowed the white wedding gown, leaving a nearly identical black one in its place. Annie let out a quiet gasp of wonder beside him, and he was close to doing the same. As Katniss lifted up her arms to reveal what Cinna had turned her into, Finnick's breath caught in his throat. 

If there was any doubt about what Katniss had been representing, it was gone now. This was the revolution and she was the Mockingjay; that fact had been solidified when her Capitol approved dress burned away.

Peeta's interview almost sparked more emotion than Katniss', with the reveal of her pregnancy. Like the star-crossed lovers act the previous year, Finnick suspected this was fake as well, but the crowd clearly felt passionately about it. They screamed until their voices were hoarse, hoping somebody would call off the Games. Nobody did, of course. It wasn't that easy.

At some point, the interviews had ended, but there was so much going on that it was difficult to focus on anything. When he felt Annie's hand brush his, he grabbed back instinctively. Like a ripple in the ocean, everyone joined hands and raised them in a triumphant gesture of unity.

For right now, they weren't terrified and helpless tributes. They were a community, a collective group bonded together by extreme horrors that nobody else could understand. For right now, they were a team.

Finnick knew, however, that it wouldn't last very long after the starting gong sounded tomorrow. 

* * *

By the time he and Annie made it back to their room, they were too tired to do much of anything. Peacekeepers had ushered them all back to the Training Center after the interviews, and Finnick and Annie headed straight back to Finnick's room. They weren't supposed to be sharing a room, but on this night, the night before the arena, none of that mattered. They were savoring every last minute of each other.

As much as he wanted to curl up next to Annie in bed and fall asleep, he had one last crucial thing he needed to do before the arena.

"Hey," Annie said suddenly, looking up at him as they got ready for bed. "Your necklace is gone." Her voice was an excruciating combination of confusion and sadness, and he couldn't wait any longer.

"I know. I have something to tell you."

Her brows furrowed in concern, and she waited expectantly. But Finnick knew their bedroom, likely littered with cameras, was not an ideal place to tell Annie about the rebellion plan. "Come with me," he decided.

"Where are we going?" Annie asked, following him out the door. "Finn?"

He wanted to make it to the roof, where the wind and the traffic made it difficult to for the few cameras up there to pick out any audio. Despite the rebellious gestures from earlier at the interviews, security near the roof was not much tighter than usual, and they were able to get there with little difficulty.

"Can you tell me now?" Annie asked, once they were sufficiently settled on the roof. "This is about Katniss, isn't it? There's something going on."

Wordlessly, he nodded. "You're right. There's something going on. And I can't give you all the details, but we have a plan to get more than one of us out of that arena."

"What are you saying?" she asked breathlessly.

"We need to keep Katniss and Peeta safe. If they die in there, our plan can't continue."

Annie nodded slowly, contemplative. He wasn't surprised that she had caught on to some of it earlier. Quietly, he explained the bare essentials of what she needed to know; keeping the Twelve tributes safe, meeting at the rendezvous point, cutting out their trackers at the right time.

"I can't tell you too much," he said apologetically. "For safety, in case—"

"In case I get captured," she finished for him, forlorn. "I understand, Finnick. I'll do what I can to help. But what about you?"

"What?"

Annie frowned. "What if you get captured?"

Finnick paused. He hadn't given much consideration to the possibility of his capture, but it was there. Still, him getting captured could be detrimental to the rebellion's success, with the amount of information he knew. Selfishly, he couldn't help but think that it would be better for him to get captured than for Annie to have to endure the horrors of the Capitol again. "Annie." His voice broke, and Annie looked at him with those concerned eyes that she wore so often lately. "If I don't make it, I need you to promise that you'll go on without me."

Her eyes watered at the possibility, but as always, she soldiered on. "Okay," she said, voice shaky. "I promise. But only if you do. You can't stop fighting if I'm gone."

"I promise."

As the sun dipped low in the sky, Annie and Finnick held each other, breathing each other in, memorizing the feeling of each other's bodies, before they lost the chance forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was longer than my other ones, lol. I actually think this is the first 3,000 word chapter I've ever written. Tomorrow's chapter will be 3,000 words also, because it'll be the first chapter in the arena! This story will carry through to the end of the war, so they'll only be in the arena for a few chapters. 
> 
> I wanted to include some found family with the victors here, before everyone goes into the arena. It's one of the tropes I love with them so I hope you liked it, too. Thanks for reading and supporting! <3


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